Invincible
by alltothepen
Summary: Summary of the journey from the premiere of season 7 until mid-season finale.


He met her eyes first as they were herded out of the truck and onto their knees. A mix of utter terror and relief awashed his features. He was powerless. Utterly powerless and every person he had left in this world was on their knees before this force of destructive madness.

Michonne remained stalwart, resolute in whatever fate would deal her. She had already faced the worst. Her child, her son dead. Every person she thought had worth in her previous life gone. Rick still had Carl and so did she, now.

They had each other…

* * *

So much time, spent with admittedly worthy distractions. Staying alive, keeping everyone else alive too. They hadn't the time. They hadn't had nearly enough time together. But it would have to keep for whatever Negan had in store for them.

They took more from them than had ever been taken before. Glenn the emotional anchor, the soul of the family. Always forward-looking, seeking the best that life could still offer. Reminding them who they are. Gone now, by the whim of a lesser man.

Abraham, military-hardened, up for the job no matter what, even enjoying the challenges because serving distracted from loss. It meant living for something better than the man he was, who drove his family into the jaws of death. Living for Sasha; for Rick and his people. For Rosita and Eugene… Living for them was enough to keep, after the cure was lost. Because living for them was better than the cure.

The thing that broke him was his son's ready surrender of yet another physical piece of himself. The inevitability in the boy's voice. Rick knowing logically it must be done, and forcing his hand to swing to move a previously unmovable part of himself. Protection was who he was. Protection of family from harm, especially his son. Negan shattered that fallacy and broke him as far he needed for him to remain useful.

Then came the convincing. Mourning was a luxury they no longer had. The queer mix of fury, impotence, and resolute movement intermingling in the air with fresh death and fear like sour-sweet.

Rick would convince Alexandria.

* * *

Shame kept him turned away from her touch in rest. Their affirming intimacies felt wrong somehow, now that two of their own would never touch their loved ones again. Rick felt diminished in her sight. And in truth, she did contemplate the notion in her own stubborn need for immediate vengeance.

But no, Michonne above all was eternally logical. Rick did what needed to be done.

She would do would what needed to be done too, on her own.

* * *

He watched from the shadows, knowing her well. Unsurprised at her early rise, the sight of the high-powered rifle she had stashed in their home, knowing how capable she is, but still utterly terrified of losing her. Michonne was nothing if not careful and intelligent in her machinations, but she wasn't infallible.

The thought twisted at his heart, but he had to push it back. Had to push it aside and get what was needed.

* * *

Michonne practiced. And it only brought into relief just how unprepared she was for her plan. Short-range was easy. Long-range, though Sasha had made it look easy, was hard.

If she couldn't even hit a walker, she couldn't kill Negan. Venison was consolation for the attempt.

* * *

Later, as she approached with stealth as always, he felt her, their eyes met and he tried his best to hide just how important she was personally to him, while pleading for his own way to manage it. Hoping that he wouldn't see.

He stepped up into the ruin with that same shame, carrying the weapon that had taken two of their own. She flinched, and it only deepened the shame.

He bore himself to her. His fear above all that he would lose someone else. Lose her. He couldn't lose her. She was his bedrock. So, she surrendered. She swallowed that fury for him, for them… for now.

* * *

He made up the floor, spread blankets for himself and her, revealed the things he'd accepted, bit down for the sake of love, hoping she would take the will to bite down and swallow too. ...Judith, the product of an affair. It only made her realize just how fortunate she was to find such a man in this world. Strength of that caliber, love of that quality a rare and cherished thing. The courage to swallow what was rancid, tainted, for love.

They made love that night, mainly because he needed to assure himself of her presence, an attempt to reinforce to himself that she would remain with him, not get herself killed. To that end, his focus was on drawing her pleasure. His own, still a distant thing; self-flagellation for having failed Glenn and Abraham. She reluctantly allowed it, more for his sake than her own.

* * *

Rick remained in that self-imposed state of internal punishment the next day, giving her his walkie and preparing to get supplies for Negan. He avoided her face, but she stopped him, reassured him, spoke without words that he was still the same in her sight. Still her Rick. Still strong. Still the man for her.

So gentle and soothing and generous with her love as she was in that moment, he lingered far longer than he knew was prudent. The memory of it propelled him through the night, and woke him at an obscenely early hour seeking her out in vain.

She didn't know until she saw for herself. Hundreds of armed men, Saviors who would meet death as a balm and release, so many others who got off on it. How to fight that? Somehow she knew they would figure it out.

Rick and she, and everyone they had left would figure this out.

* * *

She found him in the cell that night, contemplating the space. Likely thinking on how it was for him as a small-town sheriff before the dead could move, when the law would have men like Negan locked away in a similar place.

But there she was, leaning against the frame, her smooth unlined face shining in the moonlight. That always got him. The quiet wisdom and touch of mischief in her face.

...Always thinking. He could spend his life picking her brain.

He stood, with broad shoulders slumped forward, lips pursed, and shifted on those bow legs of his and approached. Even now, still not quite sure.

This time she spoke with words. She reminded him who he was, who they were. How much they had surmounted and survived together. Told him that she believed in him; in them. In the family's ability to overcome this newest threat.

She told him that it wasn't insurmountable and coming from her, he would believe anything.

...Would always.

That they would help each other in this, that they still one another, Maggie, and Sasha, and Carl, Aaron… The family had had casualties but they were still here.

Negan had sought out Rick's point. His right-hand man, and he didn't find her.

* * *

A meeting of souls would be taken where it could be had and the cell was as good a place as any. Solid, private, and clean, if uncomfortable. But they were used to discomfort.

The slide of bodies, the closeness, seeking that bliss again was beyond comfort.

It was quick, with minimal shedding of clothing, the urgency of feeling ending both all too soon after they began.

He indulged, allowing himself to let some of the world to temporarily slip away with her magic fingers entwining his curls and sliding down his back. Allowed himself to sink into her until both nearly drowned.

The weight was still there, but they both would lift it. Keep lifting it. They understood the blessing of being able to handle that heft and to do so together.

Knowing it would, with their family be a distant memory.

As long as their hearts are still beating, they've got this.


End file.
